


White Rose

by felix_pan



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-27
Updated: 2013-11-27
Packaged: 2018-01-02 20:15:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,060
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1061142
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/felix_pan/pseuds/felix_pan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>His eyes were shut, a shade of purple already casting over them. His lips were no longer full and pink, but pale and lifeless. His body layed out, his arms across his chest and his hands flat. He always liked tradition.</p>
            </blockquote>





	White Rose

His eyes were shut, a shade of purple already casting over them. His lips were no longer full and pink, but pale and lifeless. His body layed out, his arms across his chest and his hands flat. He always liked tradition.

The casket was much like Snow's. A glass shield displayed him for crying eyes. Vines crawled around it, protecting the eternal sleeping body. He would have liked it, if it wasn't for himself.

A single white flower sat atop of the casket. It was small, and slightly browning at the edges. You could tell it was being clutched and crumpled tightly before it was placed atop on the body. A symbol of grief.

Around the casket, there were children. They kneeled around it, their hands clasped together, their heads bowed. They whispered, but the soft words seemed lost in the wind, not being heard by a single soul. The forest was still. It seemed to be more beautiful than it has ever been. The moss on the trees seemed greener. The tops of the trees seemed fuller, full of life.  Neverland was beautiful once more. Everyone noticed, but didn't say anything.

Felix walked to the casket, he knees already beginning to buckle and his hands trembling. His hair was clean and soft. Peter always liked when Felix was clean, with not a flaw. Not even the scar flawed his beautiful face, or so Peter said. Peter would stay up at all hours with Felix. It would be dark and Felix would be nearly passed out, and Peter would be there, tracing his fingers over the scar, whispering sweet nothings into his ear. Felix was going to miss that comfort.

His traced his fingers over the vines. He didn't want to mark up the glass. Though he wish he could. He wished he could put his hands all over that glass, like a child at an aquarium . He wanted to break the glass. Felix hated the glass. It blocked him from Peter. It blocked out the words he wished he could say. It blocked out Felix entirely. But instead, he just skimmed his trembling fingers over the green vines, which we also full of life, unlike the body inside the casket.

He stared at the boy inside. Felix felt everything wash over him. Every night they spent together, every secret they shared, every fight they stood by each other, every story they told, and every touch they shared. It was numbing. Felix would rather have a million more scars, and it could never amount to this kind of pain. He felt empty. He felt like the hollow shell of an orphan all over again.

Peter made him feel whole again after he found him. He was like a walking puzzle piece, just waiting for his matching piece. Then they finally found each other. They spent what felt like eternity together, fighting side by side. No matter what happened, they both knew they had each others backs. And now that was ripped away from him. He felt alone and scared. The scar that was now left on him felt like an open wound, unable to heal.

He felt his knees give out beneath him, but he didn't care. Felix sunk to the ground at the foot of the casket.

He bowed his head and cried.

If Peter was here, he would have pulled Felix up and yelled at him. He would have gripped him by him collar, shoved him into a tree, and get in his face, asking what the hell was wrong with him. He would never want Felix to mourn him like this. He would never want Felix to feel as dead as he did. But Peter wasn't here, and Felix could not bother to care anymore.  When they killed Peter, they should have just crushed Felix's heart too. He was dead. A walking shell of a boy.

Felix cried. He felt the tears stream from his eyes, slow and painful. They were hot against his cheeks. He watched as they dripped off his nose and jaw, making a wet spot on the concrete base. He knew the boys were looking at him. They watched at his shoulders shook and heaved as he choked on his own breath.  Felix didn't care that they could see him tremble, he didn't care that they could hear his choked up sobs. He kneeled there. His arms rested on the edge of the casket, his head bowed.

There was a silence, and then movement. The boy's began to stand. They watched Felix sadly, their eyes pleading. The night before, they begged him for forgiveness. They begged Felix to go back to Storybrooke with them. But Felix just shook his head. He could never blame them for wanting to go home, though he could never understand.

A hand rested on his shoulder. It was soft and unsure. He knew immediately who it was. Felix didn't know what to do. He didn't bring his club, so he couldn't just fight. He couldn't do anything. What was done is done, and Felix could do nothing about it.

He jerked his body away from the hand. Felix knew he had to control himself. He did not want those monsters to see him in a state only Peter could. He stiffened up, his sobs stopping and tears slowing.

"You know, he wasn't always like this." Felix began, his voice shaky and soft. He felt like he was on fire. He just wanted to run away. He wanted to run away from all of this and never come back. But that's what got him here, running away.

There was an unsure silence. He could tell they were trying to decide what words to say. They wanted to sound caring and concerned, even though they caused this. Feix wanted to laugh. He wanted to laugh in their faces. How stupid can they be? What game were they trying to play? They had already won and destroyed what was his. Was it not enough? Had they come to mock him?

“Before this ‘heart of the truest believer’ happened, he was Peter. We were happy.  And then you came along.” His words began soft, remembering all the past times. There was no searching for boys, there was no worry about death. The most trouble they got into was fighting with the pirates. It was easy. He felt his voice turn cold and his thoughts were filled with rage.

“Felix, you must know that he was anything but good-” The saviour said, trying to sound kind, but the words were offending.

Felix shot up from where he kneeled, rage engulfing his mind.  “You did not know him! You came here, wanting to kill! If anything, you are nothing but evil! You don’t know Peter, and you don’t know me.” He growled, feeling the tears prick at the corners of his eyes. It was true, and they both knew it. They came to Neverland. They chose to go after this.

Nothing angered him more than when people pretended to know who Peter was. They saw him as this monster, a demon. It’s not that he wasn’t, but there was so much more to him than that. If only they saw the Peter who would jump on his log and flail his arms around, telling the most eventful stories as the boys laughed and cheered him on. If only they saw how tender and caring he was when he was with Felix. But they couldn’t and they never would. They chose not to see his better side. They ignored it and used his own death against him.

He stood there, his body like stone, unable to move. The saviour stared back at him, occasionally looking over her shoulder to her parents. She moved him hand up to touch Felix, but quickly dropped it to her side.

“I had to. Henry was going to die. As a mother I couldn’t let that happen. Felix, you can come back with us. Back to your family. Back to a home. Don’t you want that?” She spoke, looking at him as if he were a child. Felix felt like he was going to vomit. They really were the optimistic idiots .

“You don’t get it, do you? I don’t have any family besides Pan.” He spat, making sure he gave eyecontact.

“I’ve been here for a very long time. Chances are they’re dead. It may come to a shock to you, but not everyone one has Snow White and Prince Charming as their parents.” Felix muttered, feeling his hands beginning to shake again at the mere thought of his parents.

Emma almost looked sorry. The group stood around awkwardly, looking at each other. It was almost a joke to see Hook with them. Only if they knew his past.

They boys watched. They looked sad. Felix didn’t care. They should be sad, they should be sorry. They gave away Peter’s information that he trusted them with. They killed him just as much as Emma did. Felix wanted them to leave. They didn’t deserve to be here.

 

“I’m sorry Felix.” She didn’t even get to finish. She didn’t deserve to finish.

“You’re not sorry! You could care less. Your family is alive and that’s all that matters. You don’t give a fuck about me, or these boys! But keep pretending.” Felix shouted, growing so frustrated with this whole event. He felt like he was going to explode. How could they it there and lie to his face? Lie to the boys? If they cared an ounce, they wouldn’t have killed Pan.

 

“Wanna know how I got this scar, Emma?” Felix began. He thought about letting her guess, but he knew her answer. She was going to say Peter. “My father was a drinker. One night, he wanted some more rum. I told him no, he was drunk enough and I couldn’t run into town at that hour. And you know what this ‘loving’ parent did, Emma? He carved me a new one, literally. If it wasn’t for Peter, I would have died that night.” Felix shot, feeling hot tears beginning to roll down his cheeks. He wanted to scream. He wanted to grab the saviour by her shoulders and shake her until she was scared to death. He wanted to take that hook and give them all their own personal scars.

They were silent. Hook mumbled something about ‘just leave him’. SNow almost looked like she was about to cry, and her husbands was attached to her side. The evil queen clutched the boy, who had the his heart this time. Bae stood behind Emma, trying to look the least protective. Felix could just laughed at them.

Emma just turned around and began to walk away. Snow stood there for a moment, her mouth ajar. Then she turned and followed, the group of boys behind them. Felix watched them leave. He made sure they were gone before he went back to the casket.

Felix kneeled next to it, his hands in his lap. He wasn’t sure what to say. He never attended a funeral, not a real one anyway. When Rufio died, they placed him in a wooden casket  and buried him under his favorite tree. Felix didn’t say anything then. He was quiet for a long time. He didn’t cry when Rufio died either. It was a numbing pain then too, but not this brutal. Felix felt obligated to say something, anything. The words just wouldn’t come to him.

Felix decided not to say anything. He remembered what Peter had said to him. Action speak louder than words. So he did what could. Felix unlocked the top half of the casket, being the only one with a key. He kept it on a leather rope around his neck. It was slightly comforting.

He pushed the lid off just enough to reveal Peter’s upper body, making sure not to knock over the white rose that sat atop of it. Peter always liked roses. He said they reminded him Felix. Beautiful but dangerous. He grasped the edge, afraid he would just collapse altogether. His breathing was ragged with each sob. Felix leaned in, pressing his lips against the cold pale ones. Then, he almost fell backwards as he felt a breath against his face, and eye lashes flutter open against his cheek.


End file.
